


The Profiler's Zodiac

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Hotch x Garcia [4]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Cupcakes, Birthday Fluff, Cupcakes, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Garcia is a Cancer, Happy 49th Birthday Aaron Hotchner, Happy Birthday Aaron Hotchner, Hotch is a Scorpio, Humor, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Zodiac signs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Garcia made cupcakes for Hotch’s birthday, which leads to a realization.
Relationships: Penelope Garcia/Aaron Hotchner
Series: Hotch x Garcia [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862245
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	The Profiler's Zodiac

Garcia was just too curious for her own good.

She was a woman with many flaws and weaknesses, but a lot of good, too. It was from her goodness that her faults started anyway. Garcia had a big heart, bigger than she should have considering her line of work and where she was before the FBI. She looked for the good in people and saw it where it wasn’t. She exaggerated the goodness of others for her own benefit. And because of that, she has had a lot of heartbreak over the years. It’s just too easy to fall in love with the wrong guy, especially when you convince yourself that the bad boys always have a heart of gold.

So, it didn’t work out with that guy. And it didn’t even work out with Kevin who had the whole nice guy schtick either. Garcia didn’t really know what to do. Online dating was a definite bust. She’d handled more than enough cases that originated that way. One of her friends suggested palm reading, tarot cards, and finally the old faithful: Zodiac compatibility.

Needless to say, Garcia was a little obsessed with it. But today, of all days, she should have just left it alone.

“Happy birthday, sir,” she greeted Hotch cheerfully at lunch time, bringing a tray of homemade cupcakes up to his office.

He looked up from his paperwork as if reemerging from a fog. “Garcia,” he greeted her a little more coolly. He sat back in his chair as she plopped the cupcake tray on the file he was looking over. She had painstakingly piped on each cupcake in red icing – the same color red as his tie – “Happy Birthday Hotch!” And they were all chocolate cupcakes: his favorite. Hotch dragged his eyes back up to her. “Thank you, but…I can’t eat all of these.”

“Oh, I know! I just wanted you to see them before the others devoured them all.” Garcia started fiddling with her purse where she pulled out a single candle (thank goodness, and not one of the number kind, either) and a lighter. “Have to make sure the birthday boy gets his pick first.” 

With well concealed amusement, Hotch watched as Garcia offered to stick the candle in the cupcake of his choice. He picked one at random and held it up to her. The candle was shoved into place and then Garcia flicked the lighter on after a few missed tries because of her nails. Once the candle was lit, Hotch pulled the cupcake closer to his chest. She didn’t start singing, but she was aggressively humming the birthday song, and Hotch quickly blew out the candle before she could finish. She clapped her hands together as the smoke fizzled out. “I’m surprised you didn’t invite the rest up here.”

“Oh, they wanted to, sir, but I know you don’t like spectacles and your office is a little small. I didn’t want to exclude anyone so I figured, well, I made the cupcakes so I get to watch you blow out the candle.” Her smile was too bright for his bureaucratic office. “Go ahead, take a bite! I’m not leaving until you do,” she threatened lightly, though she was completely serious.

Humoring her further, Hotch slowly peeled away the paper lining. He bit into the cupcake carefully, trying to not make a mess all over his desk or his suit – and then promptly forgot to be careful as he went back in for another bite. Like all of Garcia’s baking, the cupcake was delicious, the chocolate rich, and there were little morsels of creamy chocolate chips. Hotch moaned and then blushed when he remembered he wasn’t alone. Making sure to swallow first, he told her, “These are excellent, Penelope. Thank you.”

Garcia smiled impossibly wider. “Anything for you, our fearless leader!” Her hands fluttered like butterfly wings in front of her stomach, setting off a tinkling of bracelets and jewelry. “Oh, um, you got a little something,” she gestured at his face.

Still blushing, Hotch searched for something to dab his face with and came up short. Before he could think to do anything else, Garcia was leaning across his desk. One of her hands up his chin, her thumb and forefinger holding in place as she used the thumb of her other hand to swipe away the smear of icing. Without thinking about it, she brought that thumb to her own mouth without releasing her hold on him and sucked it clean.

With a front row seat to the whole thing, held hostage as he was, Hotch watched. He swallowed. His throat felt too dry. The blood in his veins stuttered. The blush in his cheeks did not cool.

He could see the moment Garcia realized what she did by how wide her eyes got behind her glasses. She let go of him and moved back into her space on the other side of his desk as if he were on fire. “Oh! I didn’t, well, I got it. All clean.”

Hotch was thankful Garcia wasn’t a profiler, but even she heard the roughness of his voice when he answered her. “Thank you, Penelope.”

“You’re very welcome, sir,” Garcia said with a demureness that did not match who she was. She picked up the tray again. “I’ll just go and share these with the rest of the team and let you get back to work.” At first, she avoided his eye, but then as she reached the door she stopped and looked back at him. “Happy birthday, again, Hotch.”

Before he could thank her for a fourth time, she mercifully left and Hotch watched her carefully pick her way down the stairs before he put his too warm face in his hands.

* * *

Garcia was in no better state. As soon as she made it to the bullpen, the others swarmed her for the cupcakes. “You’re vultures!” she laughed, trying to shake off whatever _that_ was. But of course, the profilers could tell that was something was up.

“Alright, what’s up, baby girl? Did he not like your cupcakes?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leaned against his desk.

“No,” Garcia answered too quickly, “He loves them! Chocolate is his favorite.”

“I didn’t know that,” Emily frowned, looking up from her already half-eaten cupcake. “I figured he’d like vanilla.”

“You know, Hotch’s love for chocolate – as well as most of the world’s population – may come from a desire to replicate brain chemicals that cannot be found elsewhere in life,” Spencer started. “Chocolate contains phenylethylamine, which is often what is felt when one is in love and Hotch has been widowed for approximately five years, eight months, ten days. Phenylethylamine is often paired with dopamine, the happy chemical, and endorphins which are released with exercise, including sexual intercourse.”

Fluent in Reid at this point, Morgan pointed out, “So you’re saying Hotch is lonely.”

“Not necessarily. Chocolate also provides tryptophan, which enhances the serotonin function in the brain to decrease anxiety. There’s also caffeine, something we all deeply enjoy in this profession.” Reid picked at the wrapping paper more than he did the cupcake, but Garcia knew he preferred other desserts besides cupcakes. He complained they were too messy, but it wasn’t his birthday, and she baked him his own cake, so he could deal with it. “But yes, Hotch is probably lonely.”

A funny noise worked its way out of Garcia’s throat as she stalked over to Emily’s desk. “Do you have a copy of the paper?”

"Sure do. It’s under JJ’s butt.” JJ obligingly lifted herself up so Garcia could take the newspaper. “What are you looking for? A date for Hotch?”

“Shush,” Garcia told her, distracted as she flipped through the pages. “Hotch is a Scorpio,” she mumbled mostly to herself and tipped her head to one side, her eyebrows raised, “which makes a lot of sense. Much more sense than Spencer.” Dropping the paper, she fished her phone out of her purse and starting tapping away.

For some reason, she googled, “Cancer and Scorpio compatibility.” She knew she was in dangerous waters, but that didn’t stop her from looking. Garcia was only torturing herself. While the sexual compatibility was favorable, she skipped past that to go straight to the point. She read,

_A relationship between a Cancer and a Scorpio can go from one extreme to another, and although Cancer partner will try hard to stabilize it, it might be too difficult if Scorpio doesn’t have enough respect for their own emotions._

That drew her up short. She frowned, but forced herself to keep reading anyway.

_When they find an emotional link, they can go very deep in search of true love, and unite on a level that is unreachable for other zodiac signs. This can make them speak without words, understand each other’s thoughts with only one shared glance and be synchronized in their approach to their future together._

Again, she paused and considered. Then she kept reading.

_If their emotions aren’t shared on a deepest possible level, or Scorpio partner refuses to deal with them, it could be too hard for Cancer to handle the self-destructive nature of their partner. Their connection needs to be sincere and pure, in order for both of them to be ready to give in to this intense emotional contact._

But it was the last part that got to Garcia the most. It was like a sign, a flashing neon sign, with arrows – Cupid’s arrows – and hearts and everything.

_If they have feelings for each other, it would be a shame not to act on them and miss the opportunity to peacefully grow._

Blinking, Garcia looked up from her phone and then startled when she realized everyone was looking at her, including Anderson and Rossi who came in search of extra cupcakes. “What? Did I miss something?”

“Baby girl, you just went profiler mode. What did you find?”

Feeling very much like a deer in headlights, Garcia frantically racked her brain for something to say and came up short. “It’s nothing. Um.” She turned tail and fled back up the stairs. Her high heels carried her back to Hotch’s office and she entered without knocking.

* * *

Hotch had yet to pick his head up from his hands when Garcia was back. He started and stood up, half-expecting to be called in for a case with as frazzled as she looked. “Garcia, what is it?”

Her mouth opened and closed in a pretty good impression of a goldfish. Then she pushed the words out of her mouth like air bubbles. “I forgot that I didn’t give you your other present.”

Immediately, Hotch started to calm down. “Garcia, that’s not necessary,” he started kindly, smoothing his hands down his tie.

“No, no, I think you’ll like it! Um.” Garcia moved forward, closer to him, going as far as to step around his desk. She was not a short woman by any means since she was 5’8. In her heels, she was even taller, closer to 5’11, but Hotch still had a good three inches on her. “Aaron, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

He blinked at her. “Tonight?”

“Well, not tonight. I know you must have plans with Jess and Jackers, but maybe tomorrow night? If that’s not too soon.”

Garcia was staring at him like he hung the moon and all the stars. There was this open, expectant look at her face, like a sunflower seeking out the light. For a long time, Hotch hoped she would look at him that way. So really, there was no other answer he could give her. “Tomorrow night sounds perfect.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to it, Aaron.” Then, as precarious as her heels were, Garcia was able to balance and pitch herself forward on her toes so she could press a kiss to the corner of Hotch’s mouth.

It was a daze for Hotch after that, but he remembers Garcia left his office quickly to return to her own and he somehow managed to stumble back to his chair. The only reminder he had that she was there and that actually happened was the half-eaten cupcake, the floral scent of her perfume, and the warmth on his face.

Uninvited, Rossi waltzed into his office and took a seat. “So, you wanna tell me what that was about?”

Hotch attempted to act natural, straightening the posture in his chair and looking down at the papers that crowded his desk. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rossi chuckled at him, but didn’t try to argue. In fact, he even stood up from his chair. “Right. Of course. You know, I almost believed you, but next time, try saying that with a straight face.”

Looking up from the paperwork, Hotch squinted at his oldest friend.

Smirking unabashedly, Rossi waved his hand in front of his face. “Oh, and you got a little something…” He dropped his hand and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Hotch pulled out his phone and flipped on the front facing camera to check. There was a smear of red lipstick, nearly the same color as the icing and his tie except more coral in color, smeared across one of his dimples. Hotch’s blush nearly washed the color out.


End file.
